


Brecon Beckons

by DementedPixie



Series: Demented Pixie's Pros Fic [9]
Category: The Professionals (TV 1977), Who Dares Wins (1982)
Genre: Crossover, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-19 04:40:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22639105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DementedPixie/pseuds/DementedPixie
Summary: CI5 Go MountaineeringPLEASE DO NOT RE-POST THIS STORY ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM.
Relationships: William Bodie/Ray Doyle
Series: Demented Pixie's Pros Fic [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1264832
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Brecon Beckons

**Author's Note:**

> My name is Demented Pixie and I’m a Pros fan, but that hasn’t always been my name. If you knew me as In Love With Both and you’re a friend, then you’ll already know why I left the fandom some years back. But, hey, a girl can change her mind, and I have therefore decided to re-share my Professionals fanfiction on this amazing Archive – no changes, no improvements, no alterations. I’ll be posting them just as they were written. No comments, no trolls, and no betas. Just me and my stories. I’m sharing them so that they can take their place in the archive, but I’m also sharing them for the Pros generation, for those future generations yet to discover Bodie and Doyle, and for Sandra, who has never ceased waving pompoms for all Pros fanfiction writers.  
> The following story was written by me in 2010.

Brecon Beckons  
By ILWB  
A Professionals / Who Dares Wins Crossover

It was Doyle’s birthday, and the fact that they, plus half a dozen other CI5 agents, were attending a Special Forces Training Course in the Brecon Beacons, wasn’t going to stop Bodie celebrating it, no matter how much it rained. 

Yesterday had been fun. They’d arrived at Abergavenny Station at 11.30am, most of the journey from London having been spent making jibes at Stuart because of his new hair cut. As they watched the class 37 rumble away, a minibus arrived to transport them the rest of the distance to the training centre. 

After a light lunch, they assembled in a meeting room. Colonel Foster paced up and down, taking in the faces of the CI5 team while he gave them the run down on the week to come. 

“The Special Air Service is renowned as possibly the most secretive, highly trained and respected Special Forces unit in the world,” said Foster. “As a special favour to Major Cowley, we have let you in here to take part in our training course, but I don’t expect a single man to let him, or me, down. Some of you,” his gaze stopped briefly at Bodie, “may think you already know it all, but I can assure you, you are wrong. Only superb physical fitness and absolute determination will get you through the hell of this course. You will experience fitness tests, combat and survival training, first aid training, navigation tests, swimming tests, and miles and miles of marching across the hills. You will be pushed to the limits, and I expect you all to not only survive, but pass with flying colours. If you were considering selection for the SAS, 93% of you would fail. Anyone not up to scratch, will be sent home.” He looked around the room again, pausing on each face in turn. “Any questions?”

Most people fidgeted in their seats, looking anywhere but at Foster. Doyle found himself looking at Bodie, who was staring with some arrogance straight at the Colonel. 

“Right,” said Foster, “get out of here. Meet me at the assault course in 30 minutes.”

Some stood quickly, some with hesitation. Bodie stood and turned to Doyle, raising an eyebrow with a slight smile on his face. 

“Well come on!” shouted Foster suddenly. “Get a move on!”

********

The rest of the afternoon was spent on the assault course, followed by a one mile swim. Bodie took his time and saved his energy, warning Doyle to do the same. He knew what was coming next. They were easing them in gently, although some of his fellow agents didn’t look like it. 

“Blimey,” said Anson in the mess after dinner, “I hope we get a lie in.”

“I’m surprised you made it this far,” said Stuart, watching as Anson lit up yet another cigar. He looked around the room at the others. “Are we taking bets on who makes it to the end, then?”

“Well you’ve got to bet on Bodie, he’s done all this before,” said Murphy, taking the top off his pint. 

“Nah, keep me out of it,” said Bodie, leaning on the bar and turning his back slightly. 

“Oh come on,” said Murphy, “We’re all mates here. You’ll make sure we all get through, won’t you?”

“I’m looking after number one,” said Bodie, looking at Doyle, who knew he was winding the rest of them up. “Take my advice and do the same.”

“Can’t believe you’ll only be thinking of yourself, not when it comes down to it,” said Stuart, smirking in Doyle’s direction.

“You got something you want to say?” said Doyle, putting his drink down and squaring up to him. 

“No, no,” said Stuart, backing off, “Just that I’m sure Bodie will want to make sure his, er, partner, gets through the course with him.”

“I don’t need Bodie to hold my hand,” said Doyle.

“No, but you’d like him to, wouldn’t you, deary?” said Stuart, camping it up outrageously, and getting his own back for all the comments about his hair cut. 

Just as Doyle clenched his fist and was about to reply, the door opened and a blast of cold January air blew into the room, followed by several members of The Regiment. 

“Oh Christ,” said one of them, “a bunch of sprogs. Well if you lot are going to use our mess, you can bloody well buy the drinks.”

Nobody moved.

“Well come on then!”

The reason why nobody had moved, quickly became apparent to all. 

“Bloody hell,” said Benny. 

“Two of em?” said Murphy, in wonder. 

And there, walking towards the bar with the other officers, was Bodie’s double. His hair was different, short and swept back off his face, and he looked paler, but apart from that; well, their own Mothers would have had trouble telling them apart. 

Bodie moved first. He reached his hand out in greeting, with a terse “Bodie, CI5.”

“It’s like looking in a mirror,” muttered Murphy in amazement.

The other man seemed to pull himself together and shook Bodie’s hand. “Captain Skellen, 22 Regiment, SAS. Pleased to meet you.”

Anson moved forward and slapped them both on the back. “Well I think that deserves a drink!” he said, and the room dissolved into relaxed laughter. 

Bodie glanced across at Doyle, to see him standing slightly back from everybody else, just staring from him, to Skellen, and back again. He approached him with a large whisky in his hand.

“You all right, Ray?” he asked, tilting his head slightly and holding out the glass.  
Doyle took the drink, downing it in one. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I am now,” he said. 

“Bit of a shock?”

“Yeah! I should say so. If you hadn’t joined CI5 you might still be here, in the same regiment as him. I don’t get it.” Doyle shook his head in amazement.

“I’d heard about him,” admitted Bodie, “I just didn’t realise the resemblance was that close.”

“Close? He’s your fucking twin, Bodie.”

“No, not my twin. I can guarantee that. And as for fucking.” Bodie’s eyes twinkled as he looked over his beer glass at Doyle.

Doyle couldn’t help laughing. “I’ve got enough trouble with the one I’ve got, thanks very much,” he said. 

The rest of the evening was filled with arm wrestling matches and drinking competitions between the two groups. Skellen chatted to Bodie for a while, causing comments from anyone who happened to glance across at them. Their conversation focussed on their uncanny resemblance, but as they went through scraps of their personal history, they could find no common ground. They were from different parts of the country and their families did not appear to be connected. It was just one of those strange coincidences. 

While they spoke, Skellen couldn’t fail to spot Bodie’s Achilles heel, so obviously evident whenever Doyle came close. The little comments, slight touches and coy looks exchanged between the two were quite sweet to those who knew them, and Skellen took careful notice of it all. 

When Tequila slammers came out on the bar, Bodie held back, knowing all too well what physical exertions were going to be required of them the next day. But Doyle seemed determined to over indulge and by the time the last orders bell rang, he was finding it difficult to stand up. Bodie looked across and noticed Skellen watching Doyle, seemingly studying his every move. At first the look on Skellen’s face made Bodie uneasy, but after a moment, he shrugged it off. If he had a choice he’d happily watch Doyle all day too, he could hardly blame somebody else for doing so. 

As the rest of the group called their farewells and left, Bodie slipped his arm around Doyle’s waist to take his weight and stopped him from collapsing back in his seat again.

“You all right, pisshead?” he asked.

“Sweet talker,” hiccoughed Doyle, leaning forward and kissing him on the lips.

“Come on,” said Bodie in a resigned voice, as he carefully guided the drunken man towards the door. “Night, Skellen.”

“Yeah, night,” said Skellen. He watched them closely as they left the room. Their usual, cautious discretion had disappeared as the evening had worn on, until their relationship had become obvious to anyone watching. Quietly, he stored the information away. 

********

With some difficulty Bodie negotiated his and Doyle’s way through the dormitory where the other CI5 agents had organised their sleeping bags and kit. Doyle managed to step on Anson and got a curse in response. 

Making his way over to the window where their kit had been stowed, Bodie dumped Doyle somewhat unceremoniously on the floor. He pulled Doyle’s boots off, tucked his legs into the sleeping bag and pulled it up around him. Then he submerged himself into his own bag and all but disappeared from view. 

Doyle wriggled over until he was bunched up against Bodie’s back. “S’my birthday tomorrow,” he slurred, cuddling up to him. 

“Some state you’re going to be in,” said Bodie, quietly.

“Fancy a birthday bonk?” asked Doyle, prodding him in the back. 

Bodie rolled over to face him. “Nah,” he said, “You stink of Tequila.”

Anson’s voice hissed at them from across the room, “Will you two shut up?”

“He’s only jealous,” Doyle whispered, and Bodie worked his way into his arms for a cuddle. Bodie smiled, closed his eyes, and dropped off to sleep, wondering faintly what the morning would bring.

********

“This is some bloody way to spend my birthday,” said Doyle, head down into the driving rain. 

“You’d be enjoying it more if you weren’t hung over,” said Bodie, with more than a hint of smugness in his voice. 

Together they carried on the climb up the mountain side, picking their way over the rocks, trying not to slip in the mud. 

“The Welsh have 53 different words to describe rain,” said Stuart. 

“I only need three,” said Doyle, “wet, and fucking wet.” 

“Look on the bright side;” said Benny, “The other team have got to put up with Anson.” He stood still for a moment, checking the compass against the map that he had in a waterproof cover. 

Doyle looked up at him, water dripping off his nose. “Are we lost then?” he asked. 

“No,” said Benny, “I wouldn’t say ‘lost’, exactly.” 

“So where are we?” said Stuart. 

“Well, I think, here somewhere,” said Benny, gesturing towards the map, vaguely. 

“Marvellous,” said Stuart. “The other group will be there by now, we’ve lost the bet.”

“Let’s take five minutes,” said Bodie, moving towards an overhang in the rock that gave a small amount of shelter from the downpour. The others joined him. 

Benny waved the map at him. “Come on, mate,” he said, “You must know how to read this thing.”

Bodie shrugged. “You said you wanted to do the orienteering.” 

“Yeah, but I’ve never seen a map with nothing but grid lines on before. Show me an A-Z and I’ll take you anywhere, but this just looks like a load of squiggles.”

“Now you tell me. If you needed help why didn’t you ask?” Bodie took the map and compass, and together with Murphy he tried to make sense of their position. 

Doyle took out his hip flask and passed it around. Bodie looked up at him with a wry smile on his face.

“Medicinal purposes,” said Doyle, handing it to him for a swig. Doyle watched him as he drank. “Come on then, sunshine, which way?”

Bodie sighed. “We’re off course and need to get back on track. We need to head west.”

“Right.” Doyle pulled up his collar even further than it already was, and headed off.

Bodie coughed, and Doyle stopped to look back at him. He was laughing, and pointing in the opposite direction. 

“Yeah, right, I knew that,” said Doyle, giving in. “And you’re not allowed to laugh at me, it’s my birthday.”

Cheered on by the whisky and the laughter, the group started out again into the rain, heading west. 

********

It all happened really quickly, before anyone could do anything about it. One minute Stuart was hopping about on one leg because his boot had sprung a leak, the next he was sliding down the side of the mountain, swept along on a tide of loose scree. He tried to roll with it, and instead succeeded in propelling himself downwards in an ever quickening blur of flailing limbs. Eventually, he thudded to a stop, and lay, sickeningly still, against a rock at the bottom of the slope. 

The sopping wet group of agents at the top of the slope stared down at him. 

“You all right, Stuart?” shouted Murphy. 

They had to listen carefully to hear the faint reply. “Leg’s buggered.” 

“Great,” said Doyle, looking at Bodie with concern in his eyes. 

“What do we do?” said Benny. 

“We get down there and pull him back up,” said Murphy. 

Bodie thought for a moment, then consulted the map. “Or we all get down there, and work our way down to the next level. We can find our way back to base from there.”

Murphy studied the scree bank. “The best way down is going to be on our arses,” he said, thoughtfully. 

“Everyone agreed?” said Bodie, checking around the group, who all nodded agreement readily enough. 

They positioned themselves so they were all seated at the top of the slope, then, as carefully as possible, they started to slide down to Stuart. Inevitably the slide became quicker and harder to control, and scree was soon flying about around them.

“Cover your face,” shouted Doyle, then, in a shower of shingle, he landed sideways next to Stuart. It was a fairly chaotic mess of people and pebbles, but they all managed it without further injury. Doyle and Benny moved to Stuart’s side, clearing the rubble off him and assessing the injury. 

Doyle pulled out his penknife and ran it up the inside leg of Stuart’s jeans, exposing the wound. He carefully checked the damage. “It’s broken,” he said with certainty. Stuart moaned with a mixture of pain and despair. “It’s not a bad break,” continued Doyle, “the bone is still pretty much in line and it hasn’t broken the skin. We shouldn’t really move him though.” He looked up at Bodie and Murphy.

“Not an option,” said Bodie. “No radio and we’re off course. It could take hours for them to even know we’re missing, let alone start looking for us.”

“A splint?” suggested Murphy, pulling off his belt and handing it over. Benny jogged over to a small copse of trees a short distance away, and came back with a number of different sized branches and scraps of wood. 

Doyle fumbled in his pocket and retrieved his hip flask again, offering it to Stuart. “This is going to hurt, mate,” he said, apologetically, and Stuart took a big gulp of the whisky. 

Doyle and Benny fixed the splint along Stuart’s lower leg, working together as quickly as they could in order to try to lessen the pain. Stuart took it all quite well, considering, turning his face into Doyle’s shoulder as they pulled the splint together. Doyle looked up at Bodie. “Lift him with me?” he asked. 

Bodie nodded, then took a firm hold of Doyle’s wrists as they lifted Stuart up into a seat carry, his arms gripped across their shoulders. 

As they made ready to move, Benny pulled the map and compass out of Bodie’s back pocket. “I promise I won’t get us lost this time,” he said, smiling. 

“Come here,” said Murphy, with a smile, “We’ll both do it. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

And together, slowly, painfully, the group made their way down the mountain. 

********

They made a sorry sight when they eventually found their way back into camp; drenched to the skin, exhausted, and struggling to carry an almost unconscious Stuart. Anson had been watching out for them and put the call out for help as soon as they appeared. Stuart was quickly transferred to a stretcher and carried into the small medical centre. Bodie, Doyle, Murphy and Benny collapsed on chairs in the mess, while Anson brought them hot coffee with brandy chasers. The other three CI5 agents on Anson’s team joined them, and Colonel Foster took in every word as they went through the de-brief.

When they had finished relaying the story, he leaned back on the table, arms folded across his chest as he looked them over. 

“Well,” started Foster, “I’ve got to admit you’ve surprised me.” His voice was quiet, forcing them to focus on him, rather than on their efforts to warm up. “Okay, so you got lost. But you stuck together, successfully treated a man with broken leg, and working as a team you all got back here in one piece.” He paused. “You should be proud.”

Bodie sneaked a smile at Doyle.

“Does that mean we’ve passed?” asked Doyle, hope evident in his voice. 

“Not quite as simple as that. Stuart goes home tonight, obviously, but the rest of you still have tomorrow to get through.”

“What happens tomorrow, sir?” asked Murphy, almost dreading the answer. 

“Tomorrow you will be tested in the Fan Dance, where you will need all the skills you used today, plus more. And for the first time since I set eyes on you lot, I think you might actually make it.”

Bodie groaned and knocked back his brandy, immediately holding out his glass to Anson for a re-fill. 

“What’s the Fan Dance, sir?” asked Benny, noting Bodie’s response and having visions of strip clubs. 

“Yes, all right, after today’s success I think you deserve the advance warning, although I’m sure Bodie would be happy to fill you in on the details,” said Foster. “You will be split into two groups, and starting from different points you scale all 2841 feet of Pen-y-Fan, the highest mountain in the Brecon Beacons. You descend to the other side, then reverse the route and come back. You will each be carrying a 35lb backpack, and you have four hours to complete the whole exercise.”

“Blimey,” said Benny, looking like a kid who’d just had his sweets nicked. “Wish I’d never asked.”

********

“S’my round, s’my birthday,” said Doyle, as he waved his tenner around the room inviting orders for drinks. Bodie picked up a couple of pints and delivered them to the tables, stopping to exchange some remark with Benny and Murphy. 

Skellen, who had been watching them from a table in the corner, saw his opportunity and stood up and approached the bar. He listened carefully as he walked past the table where Bodie now sat, but Bodie appeared to be engrossed in a conversation with Murphy about climbing. 

“Let me get you a drink,” he said to Doyle, “For your birthday.” 

“It’s my round though,” said Doyle.

“Even so,” Skellen indicated to the barman and put a large whisky in front of Doyle. 

“Okay, cheers.”

“So, you’ve had a good birthday, then?”

“Well it was eventful, I’ll say that much!”

“You’ve got a big day ahead tomorrow, you might regret drinking so much.”

“Nah, I’m fine. Anyway, Bodie’ll be there.”

“You rely on him a lot, don’t you?” asked Skellen.

“We’re partners. We look out for each other. Don’t you have that in the SAS?” said Doyle, knocking his drink back. 

“Oh yeah, but I’m not sure my idea of partners is the same as yours.”

“Eh?”

“You and Bodie, you’re more than just partners, aren’t you?”

A hint of suspicion crossed Doyle’s face for a moment, then he smiled. “Couldn’t possibly say, sorry.”

“Give over. It’s obvious.”

“To you, maybe. But it’s nobody’s business but ours.”

Skellen took a swig of his beer, then gave Doyle a look that made him shiver, because it was so much like Bodie. “So if you fancy him, does that mean you fancy me?”

“Don’t be daft.”

“I mean it. Imagine having both of us. It would be like all your birthdays come at once.”

“Only one problem with that,” said Doyle, leaning towards Skellen and lowering his voice. 

“What?”

“You’re not my type. Sorry, mate.”

Skellen tried again. “Oh come on, you’d pass up an opportunity like that? Just think about it for a minute.” He looked deep into Doyle’s eyes and ran his finger along the back of Doyle’s hand, where it rested on the bar. “Are you absolutely sure?”

Doyle sobered quickly. “Completely sure,” he said, his voice still low. “Now get your hands off me, before we both do something we’ll regret.”

“What, like coming to bed with me?”

“No, like punching you in the face.”

Skellen covered Doyle’s whole hand with his. “You don’t mean that,” he whispered.

“Well if he doesn’t,” said a voice in his ear, “I do.” 

Skellen withdrew his hand, and turned to find Bodie two inches away from him. 

“Oh great, the jealous lover.”

“What?”

“Nothing, except pretty boy here was just about to make my day.”

“No I wasn’t, now drop it, before I drop you,” said Doyle, taking a step back to give himself room for an attack. 

“Yeah?” Skellen looked scornful. ”You and whose army?”

“You’re looking at him,” said Bodie, squaring up to Skellen. 

“I was only having a bit of a laugh, mate,” said Skellen, trying to take a step back but bumping into the bar in the process. 

“Yeah, well the joke’s over,” said Bodie. “Now back off, fly boy.”

Skellen knew he was pushing it, but needed to see how much more they would take. “What’s the problem, Bodie, too insecure to share?”

“I told you to back off.”

At that point one of Skellen’s mates, Price, approached them and pulled at Skellen’s arm. “Come on Peter, now’s not the time, leave it,” he said.

“Good advice,” said Doyle, scowling at Skellen. 

As Price pulled on Skellen’s arm, Skellen suddenly slipped out of his grasp and swung around with his fist, hitting Bodie in the eye and knocking him backwards. Doyle leapt at Skellen, punching and kicking so hard and so fast that Skellen could hardly defend himself, let alone hit back. Price waded in and pushed Doyle back, pulling Skellen in the opposite direction. Doyle pushed off from the bar and flew back at Skellen, giving him a hard punch in the mouth and one in the ribs. 

By now Bodie had recovered and looked like he was going to join in, but Murphy quickly stood in the middle, using his height and bulk to keep the sides apart. “Come on lads, leave it,” he said with some force. 

Skellen put his hands up in mock surrender, wiping blood off his lip. “All right, we’re going. Misunderstanding, okay?”

“Yeah, right, a misunderstanding,” glowered Doyle, watching as the SAS boys walked towards the door. 

As they left, Skellen smiled at Price, who nodded in reply. Things were working out exactly as planned. 

********

Doyle knew he was dreaming, as the events of the day swirled through his mind. Getting lost, getting drenched, carrying Stuart, drinking too much, fighting, and the cold knife at his throat. He froze. He didn’t remember a knife. 

Without warning a gloved hand was across his mouth and in a flash his eyes were wide open, his body tense. A man wearing a ski mask was in front of him, with a finger at his lips indicating silence. There was another man behind Doyle, the one responsible for the knife and the gag. The man in view pointed sideways and Doyle slowly looked to where he pointed. At the door was a third man, also masked, pointing a gun directly across at Bodie, who was still fast asleep beside him. Rolling his eyes in frustration, Doyle gave in and his body relaxed. As if in reward for making the correct choice, the hand and knife were removed. 

The man in front gestured for him to get up, which he did as carefully as possible. For a second, Bodie stirred. They froze. But in the cold, early morning air, he simply snuggled down further into his sleeping bag, fast asleep. The man behind pushed Doyle slightly in the small of his back, then leant down to pick up Doyle’s boots. Silently, they stepped over the sleeping agents, and left the room.  
Doyle remained silent until they were out by the main door, well away from the dormitory. 

He spun around and hissed his annoyance, “What’s going on?” The leader took off his ski mask. “Skellen?”

Skellen moved towards Doyle, forcing him to back up until he was pushed against the wall. “You, my pet, will shut up and do exactly as I say, unless you want that to be the last you see of your partner.”

Doyle stared at him intensely, but bit his lip to stop himself from saying anything else. 

The other two men took off their ski masks, and Doyle recognised one as Price, although he didn’t know the other, a tall man with ginger hair. 

“Get your shoes on,” said Price, throwing them at Doyle. Doyle crouched and pulled on his boots, doing the laces up quickly. 

“Right,” said Skellen, gesturing to the door. “Move, and keep moving until I tell you otherwise.”

With very little choice left open to him, Doyle moved. 

They walked out of the compound and towards the security gate. The officer in charge came out to look them over. Doyle realised the weapons had been hidden from view, but with Bodie potentially at risk, he couldn’t afford to say anything. 

“Bit early, isn’t it Skellen?” said the guard. 

“Oh, you know how it is, Mitchell, no pain, no gain.”

“This one been giving you a bit of trouble?”

“Nothing we can’t handle.”

“No, I’m sure.” Mitchell smiled and opened the gate, letting them out into the lane. “Have fun, boys,” he said, chuckling. 

Doyle was confused. What was so funny? Did this guy know what was going on? Perhaps it was a regular occurrence on these courses, part of the trials. But if that was the case, why had they hidden their guns? He didn’t like any of this, not in the slightest. 

At a fair pace they walked along the lane, climbing over a stile and up onto the hillside. As they approached the end of the footpath, Doyle looked up at the range of hills before them. Dawn was just breaking and it was a beautiful scene, but it was January and freezing cold, and Doyle was hardly dressed for a mountain climb in his t-shirt and jeans. 

“Keep walking,” said Skellen. “Price, you lead.”

And so, they started to climb. 

********

As Bodie stirred, he felt instinctively that something was wrong. He rolled over onto his side to find the sleeping bag beside him empty, and Doyle gone. He sat up, looking around the room. Doyle had gone to sleep in his clothes, but not his boots. His boots were now gone from where he left them, although his jacket was still where he’d thrown it. Bodie checked his watch. 6.15am. They were due out front at 7.00am. Perhaps Doyle had just got up early. Unlikely, after last night, but a possibility.  
Bodie pulled his socks off and took clean ones out of his bag, which he put on. Then he rolled up his old socks into a ball, and threw them at Benny, who was asleep nearest the door. It was a perfect hit, right in the face. 

“What the?” said Benny, sitting up.

“Have you seen Doyle leave?” asked Bodie.

“What? No! I was asleep, you berk.”

“Yeah, well it’s time to get up anyway,” said Bodie. 

“Have you lost him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh. Great. Well I’ll get up then, shall I?” said Benny, sarcastically. 

Bodie pulled on his boots and grabbed his jacket, and joined Benny out in the corridor. Benny immediately noticed the look of concern on Bodie’s face. “He’s probably just walking off his hangover,” he said. 

Bodie shook his head. “Something’s not right. For a start, he didn’t take his jacket. It’s freezing out there. Come and check the place over with me.”

Just as they were leaving the building they bumped into Foster. “You’re keen, lads,” he said, with a hint of suspicion in his voice. “We’re not meeting for at least half an hour yet.”

“Something’s happened to Doyle, sir,” said Bodie, snapping to attention. 

“What evidence do you have?”

“He wouldn’t have gone without waking me, sir.”

“Not good enough. Meet as instructed in half an hour and I will re-evaluate the situation then.”

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir.”

As Foster walked away Bodie turned in despair to Benny, who sighed. “Yeah, okay, I’ll look with you until we have to meet up. It means we’re going to miss breakfast, you know? I’ll kill Doyle for this when we find him.”

********

At one minute past seven Bodie and Benny quickly joined the back of the group as they were being addressed by Foster in the courtyard. 

“Right,” said Foster, “I want you in the same groups as yesterday. Murphy, your team is one man short, what’s the story?”

“We’ve checked everywhere but we still can’t find Doyle, sir,” said Bodie.

“Well we’re not waiting for him, I’ll check the site after you’ve gone. Everyone got their packs and navigation equipment? You know what’s expected of you, I’ll give you 45 minutes to get to the two start points, then I’ll expect you back here at 12 noon. Any questions? Then get a move on.”

Anson called out “Good luck,” as he pulled his pack on, and followed the other three agents out through the security gate, turning right to walk around the east side of the mountain to their start point.

“Come on then,” said Murphy, pulling his pack on. “They beat us yesterday, they’re not doing the same today.” 

“What are you talking about?” said Bodie, who had failed to even pick his pack up. “All bets are off, and we are not doing the Fan Dance.”

“What are we doing then?” said Murphy.

“We can’t find Doyle,” explained Benny, shrugging his shoulders, “We’ve looked everywhere.” 

“I’ve got an idea where they would take him,” said Bodie.

“They?” said Murphy, “Who are they?”

“Skellen. After last night. This has just turned into Escape and Evasion. If we don’t get there in time, they’ll interrogate him, and maybe even kill him.”

“How do you know?” asked Murphy.

Bodie turned to stare at him, with a dark, intense look. “I know.”

Murphy sighed and took his pack off, letting it drop on the floor next to theirs. “Right, come on then. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” said Bodie, with a confidence no-one could argue with. 

********

As Doyle trudged up the mountain, part of him was relieved that the rainstorm of yesterday had passed on, but in its place they now had a crisp, cold and frosty day. To take his mind off the cold he got stuck into the climb, trying to use the exercise to keep warm. Despite this, the cold was getting right into him, and his teeth chattered uncontrollably. 

Price led them on a steep climb heading around the west side of Pen-y-Fan. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, and never once referred to map or compass. Doyle followed, closely tracked by Skellen and the other man who was known as Red. 

The climb was completed in a strange, intimidating silence. If Doyle stumbled, or missed his footing, no-one offered a helping hand. And as they carried on, Doyle became more and more pessimistic about their destination, and what awaited him when they arrived. 

Sooner than Doyle really expected or wanted, they reached a flat, open piece of land bordered by high rocks on one side, and exposed to a sheer drop on the other. The rest of the Brecon Beacons spread out majestically in the distance. The wind whistled across the plateau, and Doyle wondered if it was possible for him to feel any colder. 

He stood against the rocks, not wanting to voluntarily go near the cliff edge. “What now?” he asked, arms crossed across his chest in defiance. 

Skellen wasted no time. “Hood him up,” he commanded. 

Roughly, Price and Red grabbed Doyle and pulled his hands behind his back. “Get the fuck off me,” shouted Doyle, wriggling and struggling with all the strength he could muster, kicking his legs at anyone who came near. Skellen pulled a black hood from his pocket and approached, getting a kick in the stomach for his trouble. 

“Hold him,” he gasped, then threw the hood over Doyle’s head, pulling it tight around his neck. Doyle hesitated slightly, but he didn’t give up the struggle. Unable to see their next move, he wasn’t ready when the rope went around his wrists, and he was forced to his knees. Then a thick rope was suddenly around his neck, pulled into a noose. He stopped struggling, honestly frightened about their intentions. 

He felt the rope being pulled and he braced himself. “So,” said Skellen, “I’m not good enough for you, eh?”

“What?” said Doyle, somewhat hoarsely.

“Do you really think I’d go anywhere near you? I love my wife, I wouldn’t touch a sick pervert like you.”

“I never asked you to, you sick-o,” said Doyle, sounding muffled through the hood. 

“And I suppose you think your boyfriend’s going to come and save you?”

“I told you, we’re partners, we look out for each other. If you can’t understand that, it’s your loss.”

“And what will Bodie’s next move be?”

There was silence from inside the black hood.

“Will he come looking for you himself, or go for help?”

“Go to hell,” said Doyle. 

“You will tell me,” said Skellen. “In fact, soon you’ll be begging me to stop so you can tell me.”

Skellen pulled on the rope and punched Doyle hard in the face, causing him to fall on his side. Before he had a chance to recover, Skellen kicked him hard in the ribs, then stood back and nodded at the other two men. They moved in on Doyle and took turns to punch and kick him. There was nothing he could do; his hands were still tied behind him, and Skellen kept the rope around his neck taught. Eventually they realised they had pushed him to his limits, and threw him down on the ground. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t move from where he landed.

********

Bodie led Benny and Murphy up the mountain as fast as he could push them. There were no rest stops, and they kept going until they were just short of the plateau. He’d been following the tracks, but he knew all along this was where they would take him. He’d been here himself, all those years ago. 

Now, so close to their target, he drew them nearer. “Wait here, I’m going for a recce.”

Murphy shook his head. “Bad idea,” he whispered, “We don’t know how many of them there are.”  
“Look,” said Bodie in a low voice, “If we all go marching up there they’ll hear us and that’ll be the end of it for Doyle. They could throw him over the side, say it was an accident. I’ve seen it happen before.” 

Murphy leant against the rock face, resigned. “Okay,” he said, “But if you’re not back in five minutes I’m coming in to get you, and Benny’s going for help.”

“Right,” said Bodie, nodding his acceptance. And silently, he ascended the next cluster of rocks, and disappeared from view. 

“I don’t like this,” said Benny.

“Neither do I,” admitted Murphy. “Listen mate, do you think you could find your way back down?”

“Yeah, think so, why?”

“I think you should go for help, and I’ll go after Bodie.”

Benny shook his head. “I don’t know. United we stand, divided we fall,” he said, with a wry grin. 

“I know, but we’re out of our depth here.”

“I still don’t know if it’s the right move,” argued Benny. 

Just then they heard a slight scrabbling, and Bodie was back. “Jesus, you two, I can hear you miles away,” he hissed. 

They looked guilty. “Sorry,” said Benny quietly. “What did you see?”

“They’ve got Doyle all right, he’s trussed up like a Christmas turkey. I don’t think he’s conscious.”

“How many of them?” asked Benny.

“Three that I could see, including Skellen.” Bodie looked pale, a little disorientated suddenly. 

“Right,” said Murphy. “That’s it. Benny, follow your nose and get back down there. Raise the alarm. Two against three ain’t bad odds, come on Bodie, let’s go get him.”

Bodie pulled himself together and put his hand on Benny’s shoulder. “You see that cluster of trees on that hill over there?” Benny looked, and nodded. “Keep them to your right and you won’t go far wrong. Tell them we’re at Eagle’s Ledge. They might be better off with a ‘copter, we might not be able to move him. Got it?”

“Okay,” said Benny, “Got it. Good luck guys.” And with that he started to make his way back down the mountain, hoping to God he wasn’t about to get lost again. 

********

Silently, Bodie and Murphy moved closer, until they were only a few yards from the Plateau. They’d formulated a plan which Murphy initially disagreed with, but they had no real choice. The SAS men were armed, they were not. And any false move could mean the end for Doyle. Buying time until Benny could bring reinforcements was really the only way. 

From where they were hidden they could just about see Doyle, who was curled up in a heap, the hood still on, his hands still tied. The sight made Bodie’s blood boil. 

He glanced at Murphy, who nodded his encouragement. “Skellen,” Bodie shouted. He paused for a second, then shouted again. “I’m here to do a deal.”

Laughter came back at them. “You’re joking!”

“You don’t want Doyle, you know you don’t. You want me. Well I’m here.”

“If I’d wanted you, I’d have taken you from your bed this morning.”

“You wanted to make me suffer, well you succeeded. And now I’m here.”

“And what do I have to do to get you?” called Skellen. 

“Give me Doyle.” There was a pause. “Alive, Skellen.”

There was an anxious wait of perhaps only 30 seconds or so. Then Skellen’s voice came again, closer this time. “Deal.”

Bodie looked back at Murphy. “Stay back,” he whispered. “Look after Doyle. I’ll be fine.”

Murphy nodded, although it was obvious he wasn’t happy. 

Bodie climbed the last few rocks and rounded the corner of the rock face, walking out into the clearing. 

********

As Bodie came into view, Price and Red cocked their weapons and pointed them straight at him. He stood still. Skellen grabbed Doyle by the rope holding his wrists together, dragged him to his feet and pushed him towards Bodie with a violent shove. “You’ve got two minutes, then if he’s not out of here, he stays,” said Skellen. 

Bodie laid Doyle on the ground and untied the ropes around his wrists. Then he removed the noose and the hood, doing so with extra care when he realised the blood was making it stick to Doyle’s face. The extent of Doyle’s injuries caused Bodie to reel slightly, but he had to keep it together. He took hold of his shoulders and shook him. “Ray, snap out of it. You’ve got to get up and walk away from here. I can’t help you. Do you hear me?”

Doyle struggled to open his puffy, bloodied eyes. “Not leaving you,” he croaked. 

“Then get up, walk away and come back for me. But if you stay now, we’re both dead,” said Bodie. He looked over his shoulder, aware of Skellen watching and listening to every word. He stood up and pulled Doyle gently but firmly to his feet. “Okay?” he asked.

Doyle swayed a little. “Yeah, okay,” he said.  
“Time’s up,” said Skellen. 

“Go, now,” said Bodie, pushing Doyle away slightly.

With one last look at Bodie, Doyle held one arm protectively around his ribs, and using the rock face as a prop, staggered slowly away. As he rounded the corner Murphy grabbed hold of him, and he collapsed into his arms. 

********

Price gestured with the gun, and Bodie raised his hands behind his head and stood firm before them. 

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. 

“It’s all part of the game,” said Price. “You know that.”

“Doyle’s not a SAS recruit, you can’t expect him to play the game.”

“This is our game, our rules.”

“Mine too.”

“You left.”

“Till death do us join,” said Bodie. Doyle may not have known the rules of the game, but Bodie did, and he knew just how to get at these men. 

Price hesitated slightly, looking across at Skellen who stood close by, observing their conversation carefully.

Bodie pursued his advantage. “What exactly are you trying to do? Skellen’s got it in for me cos I look like him? Or is it that Doyle wouldn’t shag him? Whichever way you look at it, you’ve gone too far. And you know it. And now you’ve let Doyle go, you won’t be able to deny it.”

“We could get rid of the witnesses,” said Red, stepping forward.

“You could,” said Bodie, “Except Doyle’s already got away, and two other CI5 agents are helping him. And if you kill me, you’ll be murdering a fellow officer.” He looked carefully at Price and Red. “Christ, you know we don’t kill our own.”

Price looked back at his Captain. “Sir?”

Skellen turned away, looking out over the scenery stretching before them. In all his years in the Army and the SAS, he’d built up a reputation as an undercover expert, and a man you can trust to finish a job. His men looked up to him. Then this doppelganger had turned up, with his irritating and cocky partner, and it had momentarily turned his world upside down.

He turned back to look at Bodie. “Our orders were to give you a hard time, to see how you coped.“

“I understand that, but why nearly kill him, for Christ’s sake?”

“Maybe he asked for it, after last night.”

“So you bring him up here, three armed men, and beat him to a pulp? What does that make you?”

“Maybe I took it too far, but you two pushed me into it, Bodie.”

“And now?” asked Bodie, the cold wind swirling around him. 

Skellen turned back towards the expansive backdrop. Bodie had to strain to hear the single word answer, but it was all he needed to hear. “Go.”

Bodie didn’t need to be told twice. Price and Red stood back, and Bodie ran to the rock face and made his way back down and round to where Murphy was looking after Doyle. 

Murphy wasn’t where he had left him. “Murph?” he called.

“Here,” called Murphy, and following the voice Bodie found his two mates sheltering from the cold wind under a small overhang in the rock. 

“How is he?” asked Bodie, crouching down to see for himself.

“In a state,” said Murphy, “But I think he’ll be all right if we can get him out of here.”

Bodie moved Doyle carefully so he was propped up against the rock wall, then took off his jacket and draped it across him. 

“What’s that?” asked Murphy, looking up.

Bodie stood up, listening into the wind. “Helicopter,” he said, “Well done Benny!” 

“You stay with him,” said Murphy, getting up. “I’ll go and direct them down.”

Bodie knelt down next to Doyle, trying to tuck the jacket in around him. “You look terrible,” he said, with a grin, relieved beyond words that the ordeal was over for both of them. 

Doyle smiled faintly, then closed his swollen eyes, letting his head rest on Bodie’s shoulder. He loved flying, and helicopters, but he didn’t think he was going to be able to stay awake for the ride this time. 

********

Foster stood up as Cowley entered the room, extending his hand in greeting.

“Major Cowley, please, take a seat.”

“Thank you.” Cowley came quickly to the point. “Tell me, Colonel Foster, how have things gone?”

“In terms of what you wanted to gain from the course, I think it’s been a success.”

“In what respect?”

“You wanted to see if your lads work well as a team. Well I can tell you they do.”

“Good, I’d like to see the detailed report on the tasks they were set.” Cowley stood up and walked to the window, looking out on the hills beyond. “Of course my second reason for the test was a little more delicate.” He turned back towards him. “What is your opinion of the issue of 4.5 and 3.7’s relationship?”

“They seem to be able to handle most things discretely and without causing a problem, unless pushed.”

“Oh yes, how so?”

“Skellen antagonised them as much as possible and eventually it resulted in a fight, but it was one that any man would have taken on. He pushed it so far that he didn’t really give them much choice.” 

“I see,” said Cowley, thoughtfully. “Am I over reacting? Do you see a potential security risk?”

“In all honesty, no, although of course we wouldn’t allow it here.”

“No, of course.”

“But they work well together, the team accepts them, and I don’t think you have a problem.”

“Good. It’s a weight off my mind, I can tell you. Oh, and how exactly did Doyle end up in the state he’s in?”

“Ah, Skellen initiated a kidnap ‘Escape and Evasion’ scenario, and Bodie worked with his fellow agents to mount a rescue. Skellen perhaps became a little, shall we say, over enthusiastic.” Foster paused for a moment. “The resemblance between Skellen and Bodie is incredible. I think he found the whole thing somewhat harder to handle than we were expecting.”

“Well I’ve got two men out of action as a result of this week, one of which is down to him.”

“Our men are trained to operate beyond the range and capabilities of conventional forces. But we forced Skellen to take aggressive action against people who are on the same side as him, one of whom is not only ex SAS, but virtually his twin. I trust him implicitly and have never questioned his decisions, but I think your top team got under his skin somewhat. Bodie did a fantastic job of talking him round on the mountain. Otherwise you might have finished this course with one less agent.”

“Excellent.” Cowley stood, reaching out to shake Foster’s hand. “Thank you for your time and effort, Colonel.”

“It was a pleasure, Major.”

Cowley walked to the door to leave, but turned back for one last question. “Same time next year?” 

Foster smiled. “Are you going to tell them, or shall I?”

The End


End file.
